Nightmare
by Geeklove4eva
Summary: WIP: Grissom plans on changing his relationship with Sara and assigns them a case together. But when at the scene, they're taken hostage. Will he be able to tell her how he feels, or will it be too late?
1. A sign

Nightmare By Gabby Castillo  
  
Authors note: I was lying in bed when I thought this up. It's a WiP, so bare with me everyone!!  
  
Spoilers: Playing with fire, maybe more later.  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine, how sad! Not mine, too bad! Wish they were, poor me! Maybe someday, we'll see!! (Sorry, so tired!!)  
  
*****************  
  
The halls were empty. The lights flickered and dimmed before bursting into a bright array of sparks and glass. The once spotless linoleum was now littered with charred paper, twisted metal, broken glass and melted plastic. In one part of the hallway two small pools of blood sat drying, silent testimony to what had happened in the building.  
  
Gil Grissom walked through the silent hallways, studying the damage around him. He stopped at the blood, staring down at it with curious eyes. He felt his blood begin to boil as he squatted in front of the smaller pool. His hand hovered over it, but he curled his outstretched fingers into his palm before he could touch it. He brought his hand to his chin instead.  
  
That was her blood. Her body had been thrown to this spot after the blast. She had lain among the rubble and the fire, her life draining slowly from her body. Waiting for someone, anyone, to help. Had she cried? Had she called for help? Grissom felt so helpless, he should have been able to get to her, to help her.  
  
For the first time in a long time, Grissom wanted to cry.  
  
Instead, he got to his feet and walked out of the building. He searched the crowd for Sara, hoping to see her among the other CSI's or getting stitches in the back of an ambulance. He was hoping against hope that her injuries weren't as bad as the paramedics initially thought.  
  
A hand touched Grissom's shoulder. He spun around, expecting to see Sara smiling weakly behind him, but he met Catherine's misty stare instead. She wiped quickly at her eyes, then opened her mouth to speak. Before she could say anything, Grissom was backing away, shaking his head. He stopped her.  
  
"I don't want to hear it," he said harshly, " She's ok, Cath, so don't you even say it!"  
  
He turned to walk away, but she grabbed his shoulder and turned him back towards her. She held his shoulders tight, holding him in place. Her eyes said it all.   
  
"Gil, listen to me, ok? This is just as hard for me as it is for you. They… they pronounce her five minutes ago… while you were inside. The paramedics…"   
  
Tears were falling down her cheeks, and she kept talking, but Grissom didn't hear anything. Grissom felt dizzy. Slowly he sank to his knees. He kneeled on the ground, his ears deaf to his own cries of anguish. He didn't see the paramedics rushing toward him, because all he could see was the blackness engulfing him as he fell forward to the cool pavement and let himself slip away…  
  
*****************  
  
Grissom woke with a start. He bolted forward, the blanket that had been loosely covering him falling to the floor next to him. Beads of sweat rolled down his burning face. He looked around the room before letting out a choked sob. Wiping at the salty tears, he leaned his head against the back of his couch and sighed.  
  
It was the third day the nightmare had haunted him. A vision of what could have happened the day the lab exploded. He could have lost her. She could have died. But he was given a second chance with her, and he had thrown that away. And now… he was close to losing her again.  
  
Rubbing his eyes, he pushed himself off the couch. He glanced at the clock on his VCR. 7:00. He had two hours before shift. Plenty of time.  
  
He gradually made his way to the bathroom and turned on the shower. Lazily, he undressed, then stepped under the scalding spray.  
  
He soaked his head and lathered it with shampoo. He closed his eyes, but opened them quickly. His nightmare tormented him even in his waking hours. Behind his eyelids he saw her drained and flaccid body; once soft skin was torn and battered. Her face that once held the color of life was now toneless, her eyes blank. Grissom shook his head, pushing the image to the back of his mind, then rinsed out his hair and finished his shower.  
  
Before long he stepped out, grabbing a towel and drying his tired body. He wrapped it around his waist, then moved over to the sink.   
  
He grimaced at his weary reflection. Haggard eyes, pale skin, more gray hairs then he remembered having the day before. He looked miserable. Shaking his head, Grissom looked away, grabbing for his toothbrush and finishing up in the bathroom.   
  
He walked to his room, taking time to remember the nightmare. Most of it had happened that day. He had walked through the hallway, had seen the blood, had gone outside searching for Sara.  
  
But he had found her then. Sitting on a curb, looking into space. She had been in shock, she needed stitches, but she had wanted to get to work processing the scene. And he had wanted to pull her into his arms and never let go. He settled for holding her hands, though, and even let the word 'honey' slip out. He was such a fool.  
  
Why in his nightmare, then, did she die? And why was he having this nightmare now, after almost a year after the whole thing happened? Suddenly, it struck him.  
  
'Because she's just as lost to you now as she would be if she had died that day,' he thought.  
  
He pondered that a moment before getting dressed. As he did, he made a promise.  
  
'Things are going to change,' he thought, 'it might take awhile, but they will.'  
  
And with that he grabbed his keys and headed out the door. He planned on driving around before shift, formulating a plan of action. He was going to win Sara back.  
  
Little did he know just how much things were about to change. 


	2. At the Scene

Authors note: Sorry it took so long guys! Thank you for bearing with me! Here's the next chapter, so I hope you like it!!  
  
Spoilers: Ummm, let's see. I do believe I mention Invisible Evidence. I think…  
  
Disclaimer: Still not mine! L  
  
*****************  
  
9:02 PM Wednesday  
  
It was another shift, and another chance to bring a bad guy to justice. Time to make good for a society that was bent on producing so much bad. A second chance for a time when maybe you hadn't tried your hardest, didn't get the criminal. And it all started with your assignment.  
  
"Nick, Warrick, you've got a possible homicide at the 'Lucky Cowboy.' See what you can find," said Grissom, sliding the case file across the break room table.  
  
"Maybe not so lucky this time," mumbled Warrick as he trapped the file under his palm.  
  
Grissom glanced down at the next file, "Catherine, B & E at 824 Bennett. Take Greg, he's been bugging me about getting on more cases."  
  
"Yay," said Catherine sarcastically as Grissom handed her the case file.  
  
Grissom looked down at the last file. 'Thank God for slow nights,' he thought.  
  
He glanced at Sara. She absently picked at her nails, careful to avoid his gaze. Grissom bit the inside of his cheek, then took a breath.  
  
"Sara."  
  
She looked up.  
  
"You and I have a double homicide. Brass thinks robbery is a possible motive," he looked at Sara, gaze unfaltering.  
  
She blinked once, then slowly nodded.  
  
"Ok," she said, a hint of disbelief in her voice.  
  
"Ok," repeated Grissom, " Busy shift tonight. Let's get to work."  
  
And with that, they all left. They didn't know that it was the last time they'd all be together before all hell broke loose.  
  
*****************  
  
The ride to the crime scene was quiet. Sara leaned against the door, silently staring out the window, her forehead resting against the cool glass. Every now and then she would bring a hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn.  
  
Grissom, on the other hand, was stealing glances at her from the corner of his eye. He wanted to reach out for her hand, but held tighter to the steering wheel every time the urge rose up in him. He tried to keep his focus on the road, but found it wandering towards her more and more often. He glanced at her soft face, which was made pale by the moonlight that filtered in through the windshield. Grissom couldn't remember a time when she had looked more beautiful.  
  
He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard her speak.  
  
"Right there," she said, sitting up in her seat and pointing towards a growing crowd.  
  
Grissom carefully maneuvered through the crowd, tempted to lay on his horn. But the urge was quelled by the look on Sara's face.  
  
"You can't get people to get off their butts to better themselves, but a crime is committed and they're out of their Lazy-boys faster then you can say two-for-one special," she mumbled.  
  
Grissom chuckled and Sara raised an eyebrow at him before giving him a small smile. Grissom smiled back, then reached behind him for their kits. He handed Sara hers, and they both stepped out of the car.  
  
Side by side they walked to the house. They pushed past the crowd of people and ducked under the yellow crime scene tape. Grissom placed a hand on Sara's back, and slowly guided her through the door. They immediately spotted Brass, giving orders from the living room.  
  
"Hey guys. Busy night?" asked Jim, turning to the CSI's.  
  
Grissom shook his head, "Not really. That's why you have two of us."  
  
Brass smiled a grim smile, " And I've got two d.b.'s for you," he flipped open his notebook, " Michael and Sara Piper. Daughter found them when she got home from work. Looks like a robbery gone bad. Broken window over there, and the daughter said her mom's wedding band and dad's watch were missing. The vics musta come home at the wrong time."  
  
Brass looked around the room, then back at Sara and Grissom. He nodded once.  
  
"All yours now. I'll get the guys outta here, let you have the crime scene to yourselves. Last thing you need is any of these rookies botching your scene," he paused, then added, " I'll be outside if you need me."  
  
Brass walked away, and Grissom and Sara were suddenly aware of how silent the house was. They smiled awkwardly at one another.  
  
"I'll take the bedroom," said Sara, and she quickly walked away.  
  
Grissom stared after her, then set down his kit. He looked around the living room and sighed. So many places to start. He settled for the broken window.  
  
Five minutes had passed in silence. Piece by piece Grissom bagged evidence and put together different scenarios. He made his way over to the two blood stains, where the victims had been before David had moved them. He kneeled down in front of the smaller pool. His hand went up to his chin and he closely studied the stain. Then he heard it.  
  
Thump.  
  
Grissom's eyebrows furrowed. He kept still and listened carefully.  
  
Thump… thump.  
  
Grissom slowly got to his feet. His hand unconsciously went to his gun.  
  
"Sara?" he called as he moved towards the bedroom.  
  
He heard something being moved around. Grissom unclipped his holster as he stepped in front of the closed door. He tilted his head in curiosity. Why would Sara have the door closed? Slowly, he turned the knob and opened the door.  
  
"Sara?" he said again as he peaked in.  
  
Sara stood on the other side of the room, but as Grissom opened the door further, he saw she wasn't alone.   
  
A man stood next to her, a gun to her head.  
  
"Oh my God, Sara…"  
  
"Grissom! Behind you!"  
  
He heard Sara scream. He spun around, but it was too late. Something smashed against his head, and he fell to the floor. He blinked once, twice, then let the darkness engulf him as he passed out.  
  
To be continued… 


	3. Waking up

Author's note: Again, sorry for the wait. What with school and all. I'll try to update at least every Saturday, if not sooner, guys!! Yay!  
  
Spoilers: None in this chapter.  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine, but when I take over the world they will be!!  
  
*****************  
  
11:00 PM Wednesday  
  
Brass checked his watch for the third time and sighed impatiently as he looked to the door for Sara and Grissom, hoping to see them walk out. But, like the other three times, the door didn't budge.  
  
"Geez, just how long are they gonna be in there?" he mumbled to himself as he checked his watch again.  
  
Brass heard footsteps behind him, but he kept his eyes on the house.  
  
"Excuse me, sir?" said the young voice behind him.  
  
Slightly annoyed, Brass turned around. He met a pair of young brown eyes. The rookie was holding a cell phone in his hand.  
  
"What is it, Officer Formsma?"   
  
"Well, sir, you have a phone call. They won't speak to anyone but you. They said it was about the two CSI's on this case."  
  
Brass creased his eyebrows and took the phone. Officer Formsma gradually backed away.  
  
"Yeah, Brass here," the captain said in a gruff voice.  
  
A low voice barely reached his ears from the other end.  
  
"I have your CSI's. Don't expect to trace this. I'll call you, don't try to call me."  
  
"Who is this?" demanded Brass.  
  
"Just keep in mind that I have your CSI's and that I won't hesitate to hurt them. I'll be in touch."  
  
The line went dead.  
  
Brass stared at the phone briefly before turning to his men.  
  
"11-99!" he shouted, " Our CSI's need help!"  
  
The search was on.  
  
*****************  
  
He heard laughing. A beautiful sound that was cutting through the darkness. It was soft, gentle, and he wanted to reach out and kiss the lips making the wonderful noise that cut through this hell. And not only that, but he knew who that laugh belonged to.  
  
Grissom could almost see her face. Her smile. The wave of her hair as she leaned down to examine a piece of evidence at a crime scene.  
  
Crime scene.  
  
It was the key that unlocked his memory. Sara. A case. Bedroom. A gun. Oh God!  
  
He groaned as pain shot through his temple like lightning as he rushed into consciousness. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the pain to go away. Grissom rolled over on his side and slowly pushed himself to his knees. Opening his eyes, he blinked.  
  
The room spun around him, shadows mixing with what little light invaded the room. Blinking again, he tried to focus on something, anything. His sight finally settled and he slowly got to his feet.  
  
Grissom turned his head from side to side. The room was damp and water dripped lethargically from the pipes to the cement below. He could tell he was in a basement by the stairs that creaked ever so often in the corner. Whose basement was it? Was he even still in Vegas?  
  
Cans of paint sat on rotting wood shelves. Cardboard boxes and cobwebs littered the basement. A dusty calendar sat on an old workbench in the corner. Grissom searched the room frantically when he realized that he didn't see Sara. Then he heard a groan.  
  
Grissom spun around, but dizziness caught up with him and he fell to the ground. Lifting his head he looked into the far corner, lit a little by light filtering in through a gap in the boarded up window above his head. He smiled and let his head fall back to the ground when he saw movement. Calmly, he crawled over to Sara.  
  
"Grissom?" she groaned, then coughed.  
  
"Yeah, it's me. Sara, are you ok?"  
  
Grissom could see Sara sit up. Her head fell back against the wall, and her hand went to her head. She coughed again as he pulled his body up and sat next to her.  
  
"I think I'm ok. I've got one hell of a headache, though," she paused, then timidly asked, " How 'bout you?"  
  
Turning his head, Grissom smiled at her and shrugged.  
  
"I've been better," he whispered.  
  
They stared at each other briefly, before shyly turning away. Sara cleared her throat.  
  
"What time is it, Griss?"  
  
Taking his eyes off the floor, Grissom reached for his wrist, but his fingers didn't make contact with the cool metal of his watch. He shook his head.  
  
"I don't know. They took my watch," he said as he searched the floor around him.  
  
Sara checked her wrist, and found her watch was also missing. She checked her pockets, hoping that by some miracle their kidnappers hadn't found her cell. No luck.  
  
Their eyes scanned the room for any sign of their stuff. Finally they gave up.  
  
"Do you think everyone knows where we are?"  
  
Grissom bit his lip in thought, and after awhile, carefully nodded.  
  
"Yeah. We haven't come back from the crime scene yet, and Brass was standing right outside the house. Plus, our kidnappers must have made a ransom call by now. They're probably outside right now making negotiations. We'll be out of here in no time."  
  
For a few more seconds things were silent. Sara sighed.  
  
"We're not at the crime scene, and they're not outside, Grissom," she said.  
  
"How do you know?" he asked accusingly.  
  
"If we were at the scene, we would be able to hear sirens, radios, people. Even through that stupid closed window. But listen," she paused and Grissom strained his ears and listened.  
  
"Nothing," she mumbled.  
  
Grissom closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. As he let it out, all hope slipped from his tired body, until he felt a warm hand grab his own. Hope was rekindled as he stared down at the clasped hands.  
  
"They'll find us. Like you said, we'll be out of here in no time."  
  
Grissom nodded weakly and squeezed Sara's hand. A million unspoken emotions flooded his heart.   
  
"Sara… there's something I have to tell you. I just…" but he was cut off.  
  
The door to the basement swung open, crashing against the wall. Bright light poured into the basement, and an unfamiliar shadow stood at the top of the stairs.  
  
Whoever it was held a gun.  
  
Something told them this wasn't a knight in shining armor, though. They also realized just how ugly things were going to get. 


	4. The Enemy

Author's note: Yay, new chapter! It's MEAP testing time at school again, and I've got 3 hours of second hr. to kill, so… I wrote fanfic!! I might even post the next chapter if I get time! ;)   
  
Spoilers: Let's see… none right now that I can think of… oh, wait, I take that back. Butterflied.  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine, but the psychic said it's in my future!  
  
*****************  
  
The grim figure sauntered down the stairs, toting a gun in its right hand, which flopped lazily onto the figure's thigh with each step down the rotting planks of wood.   
  
Clop, plop. Clop, plop.  
  
Grissom unconsciously put his arm around Sara, his mind hoping this small gesture would somehow protect her from whatever was about to happen.  
  
The click of the kidnappers feet echoed throughout the room as it met the cement floor below the last step. The form warily made its way over to the CSI's that sat huddled in the corner. Pausing, a hand went to his pocket, and pulled out a flashlight. Long fingers turned it on, and shone it onto the faces of Grissom and Sara.  
  
They squinted at the sudden assault of light on their sensitive eyes. Grissom held an arm over his face, trying to see any features of their kidnapper. He only saw one. He wore all black. Either that, or was invisible.  
  
Laughter filled the room, and the flashlight was set slowly on the ground.   
  
"Gil Grissom and Sara Sidle, two of Las Vegas's finest criminalists. Welcome to my basement."  
  
No one said a word. Fear crept through every pore in Grissom's body. Next to him, he could feel Sara shaking. The man laughed again.  
  
"Ha, scared are you? The big crime solver of the city is scared? Amazing," said the man in fascination.   
  
Grissom looked to where the man's eyes would be, it they weren't shrouded in darkness. A cold trickle of sweat ran down his spine.  
  
"Since you know we are with the crime lab, you also know that the LVMPD will be looking for us, and we've got the best lab in the nation; the best CSI's. They will find evidence as to where we are, so why don't you just let us go?" said Grissom calmly.  
  
If the man had a smile on his face, it was wiped away immediately. The gun flinched in his hand, as if he considered lifting it to Grissom's temple, and then hung loosely at his side again. Instead, he brought his foot to Grissom's gut.  
  
Sara screamed as Grissom flew back against the wall. His body hit the wall with a loud thump, but that was masked by his scream of pain. Shaky hands grabbed for his stomach when he hit the ground, and he could feel Sara's hand come to his face.  
  
"Grissom?" she whispered.  
  
"Oh god," a sob escaped past his lips.  
  
Laughter echoed throughout the room.   
  
"Don't even think you're going to get out of this too easily. I've planned for this day far to long to let the "quick rescue" story ruin it. Oh, no, I've planned this perfectly. You're going to be here for awhile."  
  
Wet tears slipped down Grissom's face as he got to his knees. His abdomen was on fire, and he clutched it as he tried to take a deep breath. Sara tried to meet his eyes, but found they were closed. Grissom looked up at the man again.  
  
"Monster," was all he could manage. He regretted it as soon as he said it.  
  
A hand slammed into his head, and he fell to the floor. Blood dripped slowly out of his mouth as he tried to get up, but as soon as he tried a foot made contact with his face. He fell backwards into Sara, who was screaming. Her wet tears fell on his face as she pulled him away from another kick.  
  
"Stop!" she screamed, "Stop! Why are you doing this?" she sobbed.  
  
Heavy breathing came from their kidnapper. He chuckled in the darkness, and wiped away some sweat from his forehead.   
  
"How about you, Mr. Grissom? Do you want to know why?" he whispered in the dark.  
  
Grissom was scared to say anything, but a million questions ran through his shaken head, and why was definitely on the top of the list. Gingerly he shook his pounding head.  
  
"Wow."  
  
Grissom stared up at the man from the dusty floor, his left eye starting to swell. Sara sought his hand in the darkness, and when she grasped it, met his eyes before looking at their captor.  
  
"The intelligent Gil Grissom, asking me... why. Isn't that your job? To figure out the why?" he paused, "I heard about you a long time ago. I became fascinated in your work. I was determined to be like you, maybe even surpass your work. I was determined…," he trailed off, eyes glassy, distant.  
  
Sara looked at Grissom, but he was till staring at the kidnapper. Sweat was rolling down his face, and she could see him shaking. A shiver went down her spine. She had never seen Grissom so scared.  
  
"So," the man continued, "Two weeks ago I decided I needed to meet you. I have so many unanswered questions. So, I did the one thing I knew would draw your attention."   
  
Grissom drew in a breath, "You killed those people. You didn't even know them, did you?"  
  
The man chuckled and shook his head, "No, I didn't. I just followed them home after dinner one night. Convenient, really. They were leaving the same time as me."  
  
Grissom shook his head and let it drop. Sara stared at him, noting the total defeat in his face.  
  
"My brother helped me. He was the one who had the pleasure of knocking you out, Ms. Sidle. But he was just as dispensable as the people from the restaurant, and just as dispensable as you. Don't you see now? There is no way out of this. Even if your precious friends find you, it'll be too late."  
  
He turned around and headed back up the stairs. Before he opened the door, he turned back around.  
  
"Don't think you can get out, either. Even if you manage to get past the locks on this door, I've got cameras all over the house, and I've booby trapped the rooms all around the basement door. Except for one, of course, but you'd be dead before you figured out which one it was."  
  
He turned back to the door and opened it. He shut it quietly behind him. Grissom and Sara winced as they heard five small clicks; five locks.  
  
"Are you ok?" Sara asked Grissom, bringing a hand to his cheek. He closed his eyes at the feeling of her palm against his face. He nodded slowly.  
  
"I'm fine," he mumbled as he opened his eyes and met her gaze.  
  
She smiled, then removed her hand.  
  
They sat together in silence for the rest of the night.  
  
****************  
  
"Alright guys, listen up," said Catherine as she sat down at the break room table.  
  
The room was suddenly silent, and all faces turned to look at the older woman.  
  
"As you know, Grissom and Sara are missing. And, since Grissom is gone, I will be supervisor and lead on this case. Now, here's what we know," she opened the folder in front of her, "Grissom and Sara showed up at the crime scene at around 9:30. The met with Brass, discussed the case. At around 11:00, Brass got a phone call from an unknown caller saying he had Grissom and Sara, and that he wouldn't 'hesitate to hurt them.' Brass proceeded to sweep the house, and found that they were missing. Any questions?"  
  
Catherine paused and looked around the table. The three men were silent.  
  
"Ok then. Nick, Greg, you're going back to the scene. Look for anything that may be related to whoever else was in that house. Greg, when you get back, I'm going to need you to process any evidence you've got."  
  
"Yes ma'am," he said.  
  
"Warrick, you and Brass are going to interview people who were at the scene, from officers to bystanders. We took everyone's name at the scene, questioned a few already about the murder vics, so see if you can get anything out of them about Griss and Sara."  
  
Warrick nodded as Catherine handed him a long list of names.  
  
"I'm going to join Nick and Greg a.s.a.p. I have a few calls to make to day shift about maybe getting some extra hands on deck. This could get complicated. Be careful guys, we don't need anyone else to go missing," she paused," Let's go find them, guys."  
  
Everyone got up and left, a prayer n their hearts for their missing friends. 


	5. Confessions and a Call

Author's note: Told you I'd try to add two today! I'm only into the second hour outta three! Ahhh, the insanity!! Anyway, please enjoy!! And thank you for all the awesome reviews! I love you all!!  
  
Spoilers: I lied last time! Sorry!! This is the chapter with spoilers from Butterflied! Oops, again!  
  
Disclaimer: Still not mine, gosh darn it!  
  
****************  
  
Sleep had not come easily that night, but after a few hours of knowing their kidnapper wasn't coming back, Grissom and Sara had fallen into an uneasy sleep.  
  
Morning light slipped through the cracks in the boards over the window, falling softly onto Sara's face. She squeezed her eyes shut even tighter and frowned. She tried to roll over, but was subdued by the weight of something around her waist.   
  
Momentarily she panicked, thinking that at some time during the night she had been tied down by the man with the gun, but her mind settled as she saw it was Grissom's arm.   
  
She sighed as she realized she'd have to wake him up, as much as she wanted to stay like this and make this whole nightmare go away. She closed her eyes and struggled to keep the rising tears at bay.  
  
Sara turned over in Grissom's arms to face him. His eyes were shut and his breathing was light. His left eye was swollen and painted a dark purple. She frowned again.   
  
Bringing a hand to his shoulder, Sara gently shook Grissom. He groaned then rolled onto his back. She smiled, and then tried again.  
  
"Grissom," she whispered into his ear.   
  
Bright eyes slowly opened to meet hers. He smiled when he saw who was leaning over him.  
  
"Sara," he said as he sat up.  
  
"Good morning to you too," she said with a smile.  
  
For a little bit, things were silent between the two as they allowed themselves to wake up. Grissom poked as his tender eye, and Sara silently watched him.  
  
"You shouldn't do that," she finally said.  
  
"Yeah, I know, it's just… I've never really had a black eye before."  
  
"Oh," she said, then smiled.  
  
"It hurts," he whispered.  
  
"I'm sorry," she said back, taking his hand.  
  
Grissom looked down at their entwined hands. His heart started to beat faster, and tears sprang to his eyes. He sighed as looked up at Sara. Unshed tears sparkled in her own beautiful eyes.  
  
"Sara, the other day… I wanted to tell you something. And after what happened last night, I think I should tell you sooner then later, because I may not have another chance."  
  
He gripped her hand tighter. He watched as a tear slowly fell down her face. He tenderly wiped it away with his thumb. She gave him a small smile.  
  
"Sara…I love you. I have for a very long time. Even before you asked me to dinner. Long before that. I was… am just so scared that I will hurt you. I'm so scared of how you make me feel, because I've never felt this strongly about anyone before," he paused and looked at her, then continued, "During the Debbie Marlin case? God, I couldn't function, because every time I saw her body, every time I went to that crime scene, all I could see was you. And I was suddenly so aware of how easy it could be to lose you."  
  
He wiped at his own tears. Sara squeezed his hand, a silent gesture of support. He met her eyes again, and had the strength to go on.  
  
"And now look where we are. Trapped in the basement of some stalker, at death's door. And if anything happens to you, I won't be able to forgive myself, because the night I assigned us to this case, I came to work knowing that you'd be working with me that night, because I was finally going to tell you how I felt. And now look, you're here with me, in danger, and it's all my fault."  
  
Grissom dropped his eyes to the floor. Tears were flowing down his face in rivers now. He took in a deep breath and shakily let it back out. He stilled when he felt Sara's arms wrap around him.  
  
Slowly he brought his arms around her and pulled her closer. She buried her head in his neck, breathing in his smell. Tears rolled down her face and dripped off her chin onto his neck. Slowly she pulled away.  
  
"I don't blame you for any of this," she said through her tears, "and I never will. Gil Grissom, I love you too. And no matter what, we are going to get through this together. We are going to get out of here together."  
  
Grissom leaned closer to Sara and softly kissed her forehead, then pulled her closer to her and wrapped his arms around her.   
  
"Honey, when we get out of her, I'm going to make it all up to you," he whispered.  
  
She smiled, then looked up into his eyes.   
  
"Griss, I have something to tell you too."  
  
His eyebrows creased, but he nodded his head.  
  
"Ok."  
  
Sara took in a deep breath, "That day you interviewed Dr. Lurie, during the Debbie Marlin case? I saw that, and I heard everything you said. I wanted to say something to you, but… I didn't know what you would think."  
  
Grissom planted a kiss in her hair, then smiled.   
  
"It's ok, honey. I probably would have freaked out anyway," he laughed.  
  
They spent the rest of the morning waiting for their captor.  
  
****************  
  
Warrick sat in the dim interrogation room, filling out papers for the next person he and Brass were to question. He set the pen down and rubbed his eyes.  
  
This was the thirteenth person on their list. They had 15 more to go, and shift was almost over. Lucky him, overtime.  
  
Brass walked into the room and set down a cup of coffee in front of the young man. He smiled as Warrick looked at the coffee and then at him.   
  
"Looked like you could used it," said Brass as he sat down.  
  
Warrick nodded, then picked up the warm cup. He took a long drink of the warm liquid, then set the cup back down.   
  
"Thanks Brass." he said, as picked up the paper in front of him, "Next is Tashi Mark. Next door neighbor and bystander on the scene. Bring her in."  
  
The door opened and a girl no older then 19 walked in. She sat down awkwardly across from Warrick. He smiled at her.  
  
"Thanks for coming," he said. The girl nodded.  
  
"I'm Warrick Brown and this is Detective Brass. We only have a few questions, ok?"  
  
"Yeah, ok," said Tashi.  
  
Before he could get out the first question, Warrick was interrupted by the shrill ringing of a cell phone. He looked over at Brass, who was digging into his pocket for his phone. He pulled it out and looked at the caller id. He stood up.  
  
"Excuse me," he said as he walked out of the room.  
  
Warrick shrugged his shoulder, then went back to questioning Tashi.  
  
Brass, though, took his call outside.  
  
"Brass," he said into the phone.   
  
A sinister laugh met his ear.  
  
"Captain Brass. Told you I'd call. I want to talk about a ransom."  
  
Brass furrowed his brows, "A ransom?"  
  
"You didn't think I was going to do this without get some money out of it too, did you?" said the voice, "I didn't think you were so naïve, Captain."  
  
Brass temper was flaring, but he took a deep breath, knowing that any show of anger could get Grissom and Sara into a lot of trouble.  
  
"What are you asking for?" he asked.  
  
"10 million. A small amount really. See what you can do, I'll be in touch soon to make plans for a drop off."   
  
The line went dead.  
  
"Damn it," said Brass. He put away his phone, then rushed back into the interrogation room.  
  
"Warrick," he said.  
  
Warrick turned around in his chair, "Yeah?"  
  
"We gotta go find Cath. That was the kidnapper."  
  
Warrick turned back to Tashi. He grabbed his stuff as he stood up.  
  
"You're free to go, but we'll be in touch," he said as he rushed out of the room after Brass. 


	6. A Name and Another Call

Author's Note: Hey everyone! Sorry these chapters took so long. School has been WAY stressful, and my teachers threatened me with detention if I didn't stop writing in class. But I did anyway! Tehehe, hope you all like these!  
  
Spoilers: None, yo!  
  
Disclaimer: No tengo un CSI characters. No me gusta el TPTB. Son muy, muy, muy, antisimpatico!! Sorry, just practicing for my Spanish test!  
  
Rain fell gently onto the grass outside the boarded window as day turned to night. The basement grew darker as the sun set and the clouds grew thicker. Soon, thunder rolled through the night sky, foreshadowing of the danger to come.  
  
As soon as the second boom of thunder sounded, the basement door swung open. Laughter echoed off the bare walls as the man walked down the stairs. When he reached the bottom step, he flicked on the flashlight, and swept the light over Grissom and Sara's wary faces.  
  
"Hello again," he said as he set the light onto the ground.  
  
Grissom and Sara stared.  
  
"I bet you're hungry," he said.  
  
A hand reached into his pocket, and the crinkle of wrappers could be heard. He pulled out a couple of granola bars and tossed them to the floor. Instinct and gurgling stomachs told the two CSI's to reach for the bars, but they sat still.  
  
"It's ok," he laughed, "I didn't poison them, if that's what you think. I need you alive in order to get my ransom."  
  
"Ransom?" whispered Sara.  
  
"Yes, ransom. I want more out of this then the satisfaction that I beat Las Vegas's most elite CSI's."  
  
"And you think they're going to pay it?" said Grissom, anticipating a blow to his body.  
  
The man laughed as he sat down on the bottom step of the stairs. He stuck a hand into his pocket as he leaned back. For the first time, they caught a glimpse of his face as the glow from the flashlight caught it in the dark.   
  
Stringy black hair hung down in front of his shadowy, cold eyes, which were framed with thick glasses. His skin was pale and clammy, and most likely cold to the touch. Sweat glistened near his hairline. He was young, too young it seemed, to be holding two people hostage. He couldn't have been older then 25.  
  
"They better if they want you back," he said confidently.  
  
Sara squinted in the dim light to meet his eyes. They stared through her, unfeeling. She winced and looked away.  
  
Grissom, though, was formulating a plan. If there was a ransom, this guy might try to get away, and he wasn't going to let that happen without getting their captor's name first.   
  
"We'll probably be here awhile then," he said calmly, "We should be able to call you something. What's your name?"   
  
The man's eyes squinted in confusion, but a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.  
  
"I know what you're trying to do," he whispered.  
  
"He's right, though," said Sara, "Maybe we'd trust you more if you had a name, and you weren't just the man who's holding us hostage."  
  
The man stared at them for a minute, his eyes unfocused, thinking. He sighed.  
  
"Mark."  
  
Grissom bit his bottom lip, "Mark. Good, I feel a lot better already."  
  
Sara nodded slowly in agreement. Mark stood up from the stairs and walked over to kneel in front of Grissom. He leaned forward, his face just inches from Grissom's. His breath was hot against Grissom's face.  
  
"Don't think I'm not onto you're game, Mr. Grissom. I know your every move. There is no way you can win this."  
  
He stood up slowly and looked down on Grissom. He smiled, then turned to Sara. With one swift motion, his leg met her stomach, and she flew backwards with a cry. Grissom yelled and pushed past him towards Sara.  
  
"Bastard!" he yelled.  
  
"Just keep in mind, Grissom, that anything you say or do here can hurt her just as much as it can you."  
  
He walked back up the stairs, and as quickly as he had came, he was gone.  
  
Grissom turned back to Sara, catching a tear with his thumb. She turned to face him.  
  
"Sara, I'm so sorry," he said behind his own tears.  
  
"S'ok," she said as she tried to catch her breath, "just hold me, ok?"  
  
Gently, Grissom took her into his arms, and for the rest of the night they sat in silence, hoping the morning would come faster then they knew it would.  
  
"$10 million?" said Nick in disbelief.  
  
"Yeah," said Brass.  
  
Everyone sat quietly in the break room. News of the ransom had come at the exact time as the news that Nick and Greg hadn't found anything promising at the crime scene. Just a few drops of blood in a bedroom near the original scene, and they were sure those would come back as either Grissom or Sara.  
  
"How are we going to do this? Las Vegas won't give $10 million dollars to a kidnapper. They barely give it away to the tourists," said Warrick.  
  
"We'll get it," said Catherine, leaning back in her chair, "For two of the cities best CSI's, they'll find it."  
  
"Do we know how much time we have?" asked Greg from the end of the table.  
  
As if on cue, a cell phone rang. Everyone turned to Brass. He took out his phone and flipped it open. Pressing it to his ear, he stood from his chair.  
  
"Captain Brass. How nice to speak to you again," said Mark from the other end, "I assume you're discussing the ransom?"  
  
"You know what they say when you assume," mumbled Brass.  
  
"Such a sense of humor," said Mark coldly, "But I'd watch just how friendly you get. I've already had to punish Grissom for getting smart with me, and Sara's paid a price for his mouth too."  
  
Brass cringed, "Lay another hand on either of them, and not only will I make sure you don't get your money, but I'll see to it personally that you don't ever see the light of day again."  
  
Harsh laughter echoed through the phone. The voice took a deep breath.  
  
"I'll get my ransom, unless, of course, you want to start looking for two bodies. You've got twenty-four hours. You'll take the money to the underpass on Elizabeth and Bradley. I'll see you then."  
  
The phone went silent.  
  
"Damn it," said Brass as he sat back down, "He's hurt them. He didn't say how much, but he's 'punished them' for something."  
  
"That bastard," said Nick, shaking his head.  
  
"We've got less time then we thought," said Brass.  
  
"How long?" asked Catherine, sitting up.  
  
"Twenty-four hours."  
  
"Then we've got a lot of work to do. Let's get cracking," she said as she stood up.  
  
Everyone left the break room. The clock was ticking. 


	7. Chaos

Author's note: Again, sorry for the delay!! Thinking of how to end this chapter was hard, but I think I got it pretty ok. You tell me! ;)  
  
Spoilers: None!  
  
Disclaimer: Still not mine, lo siento!  
  
Chaos ruled the lab as everyone scrambled to find ways to raise the ransom money. Catherine and Brass made phone calls to every city official they could think of. They pleaded their case, expressed the dire need to get Grissom and Sara back. In the end, all agreed, and in four hours, they had $10 million.  
  
"I can't believe we're doing this," said Nick as he watched the last cash brick being slid into the last duffel bag.  
  
"It's not like we're never gonna see this money again. We'll get the guy before he can even lay a finger on it," said Warrick, patting one of the bags.  
  
Nick nodded slowly, then turned to Brass, who was directing the money out the door to a safe place before go-time.  
  
"Brass, tell me again why we're using real money. Whey don't we just put in fake bills or something?"  
  
"Because, should something go wrong, which it won't, but just in case, we don't want anything to set him off. If he does get the money, he's less likely to hurt Gil and Sara if it's real."  
  
Nick and Warrick could hear the shiver in his voice. Brass was just as nervous as they were, and in a way, that was unsettling.  
  
Catherine and Greg walked into the room, and their eyes immediately fell down to the two bags still in the room. Greg's jaw dropped.  
  
"Is that…"  
  
"There were three other bags, man," said Nick as he sat down at the table. Everyone did the same.  
  
"Ok Brass, this is your gig from here on out. What's the plan?" asked Catherine.  
  
"Well, first things first, Greg, do you have the results of the blood found at the scene?"  
  
Greg shifted in his seat, "Two different samples. Only one came back, and it belonged to Sara. The other is still unknown."  
  
Brass slowly nodded. He shuffled a few papers, then looked at the crew.  
  
"Ok, this is the plan. At around 2 a.m. tomorrow morning, my men and I are going to be waiting for the kidnapper and watching the area. When he comes, hopefully it'll be an easy arrest. As soon as I get an i.d. I'll send you guys to his place with a warrant; you'll search, and hopefully find Gil and Sara," he looked up at the clock, "It's only six o'clock now. I'd go home and get some rest, catch a breakfast. It's gonna be a busy night."  
  
Everyone nodded in agreement. Brass was right, it was going to be a very busy night.  
  
Time no longer existed in the prison that was the basement. There were merely times when it was less dark, and times when the darkness was overwhelming. Right now, it was overwhelming.   
  
Sara was curled up by Grissom's side, his arm draped lightly across her slumped shoulders. Her right hand ran across her sore stomach, and she closed her eyes.  
  
"How are you feeling?" asked Grissom, his voice cutting through the darkness. Sara groaned and scooted closer to him.  
  
"Meh. My stomach is still sore. How 'bout you?"  
  
"I'm a little worried," he said cautiously, "I know we'll get out of this, but… I don't know. He's never hurt you before now. He escalating, Sara and I know that these bruises we have littering our bodies right now… they will cut deeper then just the skin."  
  
Sara wrapped her arms around him. She laid her head on his chest and smiled.  
  
"Grissom, as long as you and I get through this together, this whole thing won't be nearly as bad. Bruises go away, Grissom, and while these memories won't, at least I will remember that you told me you loved me, and that'll get me through. And you'll make it too if you remember that I love you, and I always will."  
  
Grissom wished he could see her face. He lifted his hands to cup her face. Soft thumbs stroked softer cheeks and he smiled as he felt her grin widen.  
  
"I wish I could see you right now. It would make kissing you so much easier," he whispered.  
  
"You're a scientist, Griss, experiment," she replied seductively.  
  
His face grew serious as he leaned towards her. They were so close. Her warm breath puffed against his face, and he could practically feel her lips.  
  
Just as their lips were about to meet, the door swung open and slammed against the wall. Quickly, invisible feet moved down the stairs, and as soon as they hit the cement, ran at the pair. Mark didn't waste any time.  
  
Grissom felt the first blow hit his left cheek as he hit the ground. A kick in the side soon followed, and he was unable to move. The pain felt like fire, burning every inch of his injured side. With the pain came streams of sweat and blood.  
  
"I told you I had cameras everywhere!" Mark yelled, "Don't think I didn't see what you were doing! Night vision is a marvelous thing. I try to make things easier for you by leaving you two alone, and this… THIS is what happens! Well, not anymore!"  
  
Mark grabbed Sara's wrist and drug her away from the wall. Grissom tried to sit up, tried to open his eyes, but he was blinded with pain.  
  
"Sara," he gasped.  
  
"Grissom!" she screamed as Mark pulled her up the stairs.  
  
Grissom heard the door slam and his head fell back against the cement. Hot tears fell down his throbbing face. Above him he could hear the faint sound of a door being slammed, or at least his hoped it was only a door.  
  
After a few minutes, the door slowly opened again, and Mark walked down the stairs. He stood over Grissom and laughed an all too familiar laugh.  
  
"You think this is fun? Do you think this is nothing? This is Hell, Grissom, its death. You're not getting out of here; Sara is not getting out of here. You will both die in this house. How could you fool her into thinking that there is something beyond this, somewhere to go from here? That you'll have your 'happily ever-after.' No, all you've both got coming is a slow torture and a bullet in your brain."  
  
Mark laughed and walked back up the stairs. The door shut and five clicks echoed through the quiet room.   
  
"Oh God," whispered Grissom and his head fell slack, and he passed out on the cold floor.  
  
"Big man to Post five, do you copy?"  
  
"Post five here."  
  
"Post five, what's you status?"  
  
"Quiet and empty. The package is undisturbed."  
  
Brass set down his radio. He checked around his own post, an old building that towered over the overpass. He sat just inside the front door, in a dark corner. Catherine sat behind Brass, staring out the door to the trash can under the overpass. She squinted her eyes, then tugged on Brass's shoulder.  
  
"Brass, look," she pointed out the door.  
  
A dark figure moved from the shadows of the overpass. Brass's radio crackled to life. He clicked it on as he stared at the figure.  
  
"Big man here."  
  
"This is Post three. We see a male, Caucasian, near the package."  
  
"Yeah, I see him. Wait for my word. Do not move unless I say so."  
  
"Roger." And the radio went silent.  
  
Brass reached for his gun, a precaution for if he had to run after this guy. His eyes followed the man as he circled around the trash can. The man made the wrong move.  
  
"Move, move, move!" yelled Brass into his radio as he ran out the door. Catherine followed close behind.  
  
Out of corners and shadows, police ran towards the suspect, guns drawn, the click of heels against the pavement. But the man stood calmly, and reached into his jacket. He pulled out a gun.  
  
"He's armed," yelled Brass as he raised his own weapon.  
  
The man smiled in the dark and fired. Brass fell backwards as the bullet hit his shoulder. He yelled, then groaned as blood pooled around his head. Catherine fell to the ground next to him.  
  
"We need an ambulance!" she yelled.  
  
The man turned around and sprinted to the other side of the overpass. The headlights of a car soon appeared. A young officer raised his gun, and tried to shoot out the tires. The car swerved out of the way, catching the young man at the knees. His broken body flew forward. Several officers ran to their fellow officer. The car pulled near the trash can and pulled out three bags.  
  
"Get the plate number," mumbled Brass as the car started to pull away.  
  
Catherine turned to the car and quickly memorized the number before the car sped away.  
  
"XLG 672," she mumbled as she turned back to Brass.  
  
Brass smiled and weakly shook his head. Sirens sounded in the distance as they waited in silence. Their suspect had got away, but not without leaving a clue. 


	8. Alone

Author's note: Ugh, sorry again guys. I know it's been a VERY long while, but I just got out of school, and had six VERY hard exams to study for. But now school's out, and I'll be writing 24/7! Just to let you know now, I'm working on the final chapter with an ending that'll leave you speechless, and as soon as this is done I'll be starting a new WiP that ties in with this one. You'll see how! It's all so exciting!  
  
Spoilers: None.  
  
Disclaimer: To TPTB belong S and G. Uhhh, does that make sense??  
  
…………….  
  
Sara woke up slowly, her head becoming a drum for consciousness. She rolled over on her side and grabbed her head, willing the pain to go away. A few tears fell out from behind closed eyes as, through clenched teeth, she quickly let out a breath she hadn't even known she was holding. She rolled onto her back again as an awareness of her new surroundings sunk in. She opened her heavy eyelids.  
  
'I'm not in the basement anymore,' she thought to herself as her tired eyes focused on the dirty white ceiling above her head.   
  
She set her hands on the soft carpet beneath her and pushed herself up. Sara stared down at the pale green fibers beneath her fingertips, then gradually inspected the room around her. The walls were light blue, dotted with a few dark smudges of dirt. A carefully made bed sat against the far wall, its old cotton sheets gathering dust. Sara turned her head to the right. A small nightstand had been placed under the grimy window.  
  
A window.  
  
Sara stood up, and on shaky legs walked over to the window. Her heart beat faster with anticipation. She lifted a hand to the dirty glass, her fingertips gently making contact with the cool surface. She pulled away slightly at the feel of it, but quickly pressed her whole palm against it. The other hand lethargically wiped away some of the dirt that clung to the window. Sara leaned down, brown eyes searching the horizon outside.   
  
There was nothing but field, but for a minute Sara was lost in the brilliant blue of the sky, and the wave of the branches on a scraggly tree outside the window. Sara chuckled. She'd have to get Grissom to look at this. She stopped.  
  
Reality can be a bastard.  
  
Sara shook her head and closed her eyes. She leaned her back against the wall and let her tears wind salty paths down her bruised cheeks. Slowly she slid to the ground, her head collapsing into her hands.   
  
There was nothing anymore, it seemed. She'd lost Grissom. She prayed he was alive. Hope seemed to be lost, and hope had been the only thing she had left. But like so much here, it had been ripped away. Now all she had was the chance that Grissom was still alive, and that maybe they would get out of this… together.  
  
…………   
  
Grissom had grown accustomed to waking up with pain shooting through every inch of his body, but the pain he felt this morning was unbearable. He had opened his eyes and was completely numb to the physical pain that was sweeping his body yet again, but the emptiness of the room, the quiet echo of water dripping on the cement floor, that's what was killing him.   
  
Grissom was staring ahead at the darkness in front of him, trying to conjure up an image of Sara in his head. One of her smiling, laughing, being happy. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying again for anything, but he only managed to squeeze out a few tears that he had been holding back. He violently wiped them away, furious with himself that he couldn't remember her face.  
  
Grissom's hand slipped to his wrist, his fingers trying to find a pulse. When he found it, he let his fingers rest, feeling his life pumping through his beaten body, going a thousand miles a minute. He was mad. Really mad. Time slowly ticked by, and his fingers continued to rest on his wrist. He was still alive. He had the proof he needed. But he felt cold, and dead.   
  
And what about Sara?  
  
He shuddered as his mind formed images of what could have happened. Mark could have taken her upstairs. Dragged her into a room. He could have had his way with her. Then, when he was done, he could have suffocated her, left her body alone in some dark room.  
  
Grissom shook his head. Mark was right. This was Hell. The pain, the torture of not knowing where Sara was, the being hopelessly trapped. There was no escape from this. He probably would die here, and his selfishly wanting to tell Sara how he felt brought her here to die too. Something he should have told her forever ago. She could be dead because of it. He was crying now, but he didn't care.  
  
"Grissom…I love you, and no matter what, we're going to get out of this together."  
  
Grissom smiled as her voice and her promise echoed through his head. He had to hold on because, no matter where she was, Sara was doing the same.   
  
…………  
  
He bolted into the house, slamming the door. Throwing the duffel bags aside, he ran out into the living room. He grabbed the box that had been sitting in the corner since this plan had been hatched and took it out to the kitchen.  
  
LVMPD would get a bang out of this.  
  
Mark chuckled, then got to work, carefully planning his schemes end.  
  
…………  
  
Brass had always hated hospitals. That never-ending drone of beeping machines and the intercom that didn't shut up calling Dr. Whatsisname and Nurse Whosit to this room, or that phone. All that, and the smell of disinfectant and stale blood.   
  
It was one thing, though, to walk through quickly to interview a witness or suspect, and then to just as quickly walk out. It was another thing completely to be stuck here altogether.   
  
Brass still hated it.  
  
He tried to move, and winced as pain shot through his shoulder. He turned his head as her heard quiet laughter at the door.  
  
"Yeah, you wouldn't be laughing if this were you," he said as Catherine walked into the room, taking the chair next to his bed.   
  
"You're right, I'm sorry," said Catherine, still grinning.  
  
The room was quiet in for a minute, but Brass soon spoke up.  
  
"That license plate? What's happenin' with it?"  
  
"Warrick ran it through DMV records and came up with a name. Mark Thompson. We checked police records to see if maybe the car had been reported stolen, but nothing came up. We've asked the judge for a warrant. Nick should be getting a hold of me soon with an answer."  
  
Brass smiled and shook his head. It could almost be over. After all this, Gil and Sara could finally be found, and they could finally be done with it. It all rested on a judge. Ugh.  
  
Beep, beep, beep.  
  
Catherine flinched as her pager went off. She slid it off her belt loop and peered down at it. She smiled, then looked up at Brass.  
  
"I gotta go. We got it."  
  
Brass smiled as she stood up and quickly made her way out of the room. He shook his head. Yep, it could all be over soon. He just prayed it would be a happy ending.  
  
TBC 


	9. The End

Author's note: Ugh, guys, I am SO sorry! I've totally been neglecting my writing for a while. I was in Toronto for a week, and then there is this guy… well, nevermind. Anyway, this is the final chapter of "Nightmare." It turned out pretty good, I'm really surprised. So yeah, thank you SO MUCH for all the great reviews and the encouragement to go on, even when I thought all of this was going nowhere! Please enjoy, and stay tuned for the prequel to this story, called "Stuck."  
  
Spoilers: None  
  
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me, 'cept for Mark and Danny Thompson… they're mine!  
  
…………  
  
Two Weeks earlier…  
  
"Mark? Mark, I'm home!" yelled Danny Thompson as he stepped through the door.  
  
He shifted the box in his hands as he shut the door. Danny bit down on his bottom lip as he looked around the dark hallway. He stepped into the living room, but was met with the same eerie darkness. Shrugging, Danny made his way to the kitchen.  
  
He smiled when he saw his brother sitting at the table. He walked around the kitchen without saying a word, first setting the box on the table in front of his brother, then walking over to the refrigerator to grab a beer from inside. Danny turned around and looked at Mark, and looked down at the newspaper he held in front of him.   
  
"Marlin suspect questioned, released; double murder remains unsolved."  
  
"Grissom let one go. He's slipping," said Mark, looking up at Danny.  
  
Danny grinned, and then sat across from Mark. He set down his beer, and started to open the worn cardboard box.  
  
"Is that what I think it is?" asked Mark, his eyes brightening.  
  
"I managed to grab these while Mr. Foster was at a site today."  
  
Danny opened the box and Mark smiled. It was filled with dynamite and wire. Mark started to laugh.  
  
"Just in case…," he mumbled as his hands gently touched the box.  
  
"In case of what?" asked Danny.  
  
"In case we're discovered and the cops come around. We either get away free or nobody gets out of this alive."  
  
Mark picked up the box and walked out of the room. Danny stared after him, worried about where all of this would end up.  
  
……….  
  
Catherine smiled at Nick and Warrick as she stepped out of her Denali and approached the two men. Warrick casually leaned against Nick's car, and both men smiled back.  
  
"We managed to get a warrant off of the plate alone? I can't believe it," said Catherine, flipping her strawberry-blonde hair, "You boys want to fill me in on what else it was you found before we head over to the suspect's house?"  
  
Warrick chuckled and Nick grinned. Nick shifted, trying to catch a breeze and relief from the uncomfortable Las Vegas sun.  
  
Warrick started, "Mark Thompson has a brother named Danny. They've been living together for about eight months now. Mark is unemployed, but Danny works for Foster and Sons Demolition."  
  
"So, he blows things up for a living?" asked Catherine.  
  
Nick continued, "Yeah. We called Danny's employer, hoping we could catch Danny, but apparently, Danny hasn't been to work since… oh, wanna venture a guess?"  
  
Catherine's smile got bigger, "The day of the abduction."  
  
Warrick nodded, but his smile disappeared, "That's not all, and this is where it could get dangerous. Mr. Foster, Danny's boss, said that about two weeks ago, some dynamite and wire went missing from the storage facility. He asked Danny about it, but Danny said he didn't know anything about it, and eventually the disappearance was blamed on someone miscounting how much they took out. But that leaves a lot of dynamite missing."  
  
"Two weeks ago… so a week before Griss and Sara were taken?"  
  
Nick and Warrick nodded.  
  
"So, Danny and Mark could have staged a crime to lure them in. A double homicide, something the supervisor would have gone to. But how'd they know Grissom would bring Sara with him?" said Catherine.  
  
"Maybe they didn't expect someone else. Maybe they only wanted Grissom. They could have been watching him for a while now," said Nick.  
  
Catherine nodded, then turned her head when she heard the click of shoes on the pavement. It was O'Riley. He nodded a hello as he came to stand with the three criminalists.  
  
"Here it is," he said, holding up a folded piece of paper.  
  
Nick shook his head, and Warrick pushed away from the Tahoe.  
  
"What are we waiting for then," said Nick, walking around to the driver's side, "we have a potential crime scene to investigate."  
  
The three CSI's hopped into his car. O'Riley jumped into his car, and followed them to Mark Thompson's home. They all knew it, but no one said it out loud.  
  
The end was near.  
  
……….  
  
"There is breaking news tonight on the story of two criminalists who went missing last week while investigating the deaths of two Las Vegas residents. The police have released a statement regarding a search warrant that is being executed tonight at the house of someone the police are calling a 'significant suspect.' We'll have more tonight on the ten o'clock news."  
  
Mark's head shot up from his delicate work when the newscaster broke in with the news. He licked his suddenly dry lips as his hand fumbled for the remote. His finger grazed over it, and he snatched it up and flicked off the T.V.  
  
Mark wiped sweat from his brow and carefully put down the wire he had been clipping. He moved from the table and walked to the basement door. He stared at it, going over all his emotions, sifting through the thoughts bombarding his brain. Finally, he made up his mind.  
  
His hands deftly unlocked the locks. He opened the door and ran down the stairs. Mark paused at the foot of the stairs, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness before moving forward.  
  
"Grissom!" he yelled into the dark.  
  
He heard a gasp from the corner. Mark quickly moved towards it, and reached out into the shadows. His aim was perfect. He felt his fingers make contact with hair. He grabbed it and yanked up, provoking a scream from Grissom. Grissom moved up with the hand, trying to lessen the pain.  
  
"Come on," hissed Mark, yanking a stumbling Grissom with him.  
  
They moved up the stairs swiftly. Mark pulled Grissom through the door and into the kitchen, then up another flight of stairs to the second floor. Mark pulled keys out of his pocket and flipped through the first few before finding the one he wanted. He shoved it into the door, and turned it. He pushed open the door, and threw Grissom inside, pulling the door shut behind him and locking it back up.   
  
"I have to set it up. I have to get the wires in place."   
  
Mark ran back down the stairs. He had to hook the dynamite to the door before the police arrived, or else everything he had worked for would be ruined.  
  
……….  
  
"Grissom?" said Sara as she stood up and ran over to Grissom.   
  
"Ow," mumbled Grissom, grabbing his head and leaning against the door.  
  
Sara sat down next to him and carefully wrapped her arms around his waist. He smiled grimly and pulled her closer.   
  
"What's going on?" Grissom wondered out loud.  
  
"Something's going down. I could hear the T.V. a little bit. Something must have come up, because he turned it off pretty quickly, and all of a sudden… here you are," said Sara.  
  
Grissom bit his bottom lip and nodded. Absentmindedly he stroked her hair, before getting up and moving to the window.  
  
"What a view," he whispered as he searched the horizon through squinted eyes, "It's amazing what you…"  
  
He trailed off when he saw the cloud of dust following a black Tahoe that was speeding up the road.   
  
"…can see," he finished, "Sara, look. It's Nicky's Tahoe."  
  
Sara got up and stood behind Grissom, the pair staring out the window as the vehicle got closer. Smiles crept to both their faces as they realized just how close freedom was.  
  
Or at least they thought it was.  
  
The door behind them swung open, crashing against the wall. Grissom and Sara spun around, their hands clasping. Mark stood in front of them, sweat dripping from his forehead, his breathing heavy. He held the gun in his hands, his finger pulsing against the trigger. He stepped into the room, and stood still for a moment before running at Sara, pulling her away from Grissom. She screamed as she was spun around into Mark, and Grissom lunged for her. But Mark brought the gun to her head, and Grissom stilled.   
  
Mark grinned as he pressed the barrel into her head. The cool metal dug into her skin, and he let a nervous chuckle slip.  
  
"I could shoot her. My finger is on the trigger, and I could pull it," he pulled Sara closer and leaned into her ear, and smiled as he looked at Grissom, then lustfully looked at Sara. Tears streamed down her face, and he laughed as he continued, "I could shoot you, and let your blood run down my arm, let your dead body fall to the floor, let Grissom run to you, screaming, crying, 'Sara, my Sara!' But I won't, and I'll tell you why."  
  
He let the gun fall to his side as he pushed Sara back towards Grissom. He pointed his finger towards the window, and the Tahoe that was just feet from the driveway.  
  
"I won't shoot you, because in five minutes, those people, your friends, are going to knock on my door, and when I don't answer it, their going to open it. And do you know what's going to happen when they open the door?" he paused and laughed, "the door, everything, is going to explode. Me, you, them… everyone and everything."   
  
He laughed as he backed up and shut the door, then sank down to the floor. He let the gun fall as he laughed.  
  
"We're all gonna die," he whispered.  
  
They all looked out the window as they heard car doors shutting. Grissom raised his fist to the window, about to beat on it, catch their attention, but behind him he heard laughing.   
  
"If you get their attention, they'll just open the door sooner. I told you, Grissom, you're going to die here, there is no escaping it."  
  
Grissom turned to Sara, and she fell into his arms. He pulled away and kissed her. Their tears fell down their faces, intermingling with their passionate kiss. Grissom pulled away slightly, and looked down at Sara.  
  
"I love you," he whispered.  
  
"I love you, too," Sara said between her tears.  
  
Below them they could hear someone knock on the door, and the voice that followed.  
  
" LVMPD. We have a warrant."  
  
Grissom pulled Sara to him. He blocked out everything but her, he concentrated on her scent, her soft skin, everything he could.  
  
"Sir, we're coming in."  
  
"Grissom…,"  
  
Before he could say anything to her, he heard the deafening boom, and a flash of white that followed…  
  
……….  
  
Grissom woke with a start. He bolted forward, the blanket that had been loosely covering him falling to the floor next to him. Beads of sweat rolled down his burning face. He looked around the room before letting out a choked sob. Wiping at the salty tears, he leaned his head against the back of his bed and sighed. He felt the bed shift next to him, and he quickly composed himself.  
  
Sara sat up in bed next to him, and grabbed his hand. Grissom turned to her and smiled weakly as he ran a trembling hand through his hair. In the dim moonlight he could see Sara's eyebrows furrow in concern. She leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his shaking frame.  
  
"Griss, what is it?" she said, shifting her eyes to look up at him.  
  
He closed his eyes as he pulled her closer. He leaned his head against hers and smiled, "It's nothing, Sara. It's ok now… it was all just a nightmare."  
  
He chuckled as he laid back down, pulling her with him. He chuckled as he slowly fell back to sleep, the love of his life in his arms, knowing that, from now on, it was only good dreams to come. 


End file.
